


Glossophobia

by GeorgeCantWrite



Series: Pietro and Bucky shorts [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, M/M, Prompt Fic, Protective Pietro Maximoff, Public Speaking Sucks, Social Anxiety, Swearing, anxiety attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-23 02:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12496932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeorgeCantWrite/pseuds/GeorgeCantWrite
Summary: Bucky hates public speaking, but maybe not as much as Pietro.





	Glossophobia

**Author's Note:**

> Writing prompt: 'He'd always hated speaking in public.'  
> If any of you have writing prompts for me, feel free to drop them in the comments.

Bucky hated public speaking. Always had, always would. It sucked. It wasn't something he could avoid either, what with becoming a newly made Avenger, or the whole civil war thing and having to deal with the public. The government imprisoning him wasn't fun either, and having to speak in front of the cameras that fed the feed live across the entire world.

Yeah, Bucky Barnes hated public speaking.

The whole concept of speaking was terrifying anyway, but then adding people you knew or didn't know, and the whole concept became even worse. Yeah, the people you knew wouldn't judge you as much as the people who didn't, but there was always that little voice in your head that fed those little lies of just how much the friends would actually be judging you. The people you didn't know were the worst, unable to know just what they would be thinking.

Bucky hated a lot of things. Especially Pietro Django Maximoff.

Pietro was a cocky asshole and Bucky hated that he secretly fucking loved it. He hated how Pietro smirked his way through speaking to the cameras, talking his way out of the awkward places whilst Bucky was stuck with dealing with people who screamed in his face, wanting his answers to their questions whilst they simultaneously insulted him and called him a villain. He felt he deserved an award for not punching those people in the face.

And Pietro didn't help.

He'd see him wherever, getting his way through everything, He charmed his way onto the team; Bucky watched him do things Bucky wished he could have been able to do. He managed to get through things Bucky couldn't do. He managed to do things that seemed like impossible feats for Bucky.

Bucky hated it.

"Do you have a vendetta against Maximoff?" Steve asked, looking at Bucky. Bucky didn't look back, instead, he kept his eyes on the StarkPad. "Buck,"

"I like Wanda. She's alright," he replied.

"I wasn't talking about Wanda."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "There is two of 'em; you gotta be more specific about who you're talking about."

"Still didn't answer me." he said, nudging Bucky gently.

"I don't have a vendetta against him, since that's what you were asking. I neither like nor dislike him." he said, standing up, taking the StarkPad with him. He noticed the almost invisible blue trails, and ignored the weird feeling that settled in his stomach.

He got to his room, kicking the door shut behind him and looked up when he heard the creak in the corner of his room. Pietro was sat there, feet kicked up onto his desk. He had a book in hand, looking unconcerned.

"What the fuck?" Bucky asked, then shook it off, forcing the assassin inside to ever so kindly shut up as he went and sat on his bed, grabbing a book written in Latin. He kept his eyes on the book, but the words weren't going in.

"Have any problems with your anxiety?" Pietro asked and Bucky tried not to tense up. "It is no problem. Anxiety sucks, but you have to think that ... that they are like fish? Or to some extent you could do is pretend you are better than them. In some ways you probably are, I mean they are dicks, but probably bigger dicks than you." he said and Bucky snorted.

"Thanks."

"Or just try and suave your way out of there?" he suggested, dog-earing his book as he dropped his feet from the desk. "What's the book about?"

Bucky shrugged, closing it. "Not sure."

Pietro frowned. "What is wrong?"

"Not sure." he repeated, breathing slowly.

"You might be having anxiety attack?"

"Mm."

Pietro pursed his lips, then stood up and sat beside Bucky, holding out his hand. "May I have your hand? I want to help," he said. Bucky frowned, despite the pain now in his chest, but complied. "Your thumb is recognition," Pietro began. "so you can recognise your panic. Your index finger: I want you to sigh or breathe out as deeply as you can. Try and relax your shoulders and arm, I know how much you can tense up when you're having an attack." he said.

Bucky did as he said, letting his shoulders relax, rolling them at the comfort of the lack of tense running through them.

"Good. Now, your middle finger and fourth finger, they are for you to breathe in and out slowly and deeply. That will help to slow your heart down. Do that as many times as you need. Your little finger needs to be wiggled, silly I know, but it will help once you've stretched it, relaxed your whole hand and clenched it into a fit. Once you have done that, you should stretch your fingers out like this," he said, splaying his fingers out. "OK?"

"Thanks." Bucky said when he had gone through the instructions. "How did you know that?"

Pietro shrugged. "Stark ... he - uh - he found me having a panic attack once.  Helped me calm down and shit with that. There is another way to calm down using your hand, but it didn't really help me much." he admitted.

"What was it?"

"Uh, your thumb is sight, so one thing you can see. Your index finger is sound, so two things you can hear. Middle finger is three things you can smell. Fourth finger is four things you can taste, and your little finger is five things you can touch,"

"Seems stupid." Bucky said quietly. "What if you can't hear two things or can't smell anything? Or can't taste anything?"

"Work in progress, yes?" Pietro said with a light smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." he said, avoiding looking at Pietro, though suddenly hyperaware of just how close they were. "Why did you come into my room anyway?"

The man shrugged. "I was bored. Wanted to talk to someone." he said honestly.

"Thanks."

 

* * *

 

 

It turned into a sort of routine. Pietro and Bucky would notice whenever the other would be starting to teeter into an anxiety attack and would pull each other aside and calm them down. They talked to each other about all sorts of things and sometimes, they talked about things that Bucky never thought he'd speak about. He'd admit to Pietro about the things that he did as the Winter Soldier, some things he hadn't spoken to Steve or his psychiatrist about.

Pietro would tell him about the things he did as a kid, trying to keep Wanda safe and happy. They'd never speak of those things outside of their troubled times. It wasn't something either of them could face up to doing.

It went on for months and they barely spoke to each other around anyone else. It was normal for them, not something that they found particularly strange. It was just something they did.

"Bucko, c'mon, you're killing me." Clint said, pulling Bucky out of his not quite daydream. He blinked and Clint rolled his eyes, smiling. "You and Maximoff giving each other dewy looks,"

"Barton, I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about," Bucky said, pushing Clint's foot from his shoulder.

Clint rolled his eyes, taking a drink from his beer. "And I'm hetero," he said, earning a snort from Bucky. "I'm trying to be serious. You gonna make your move or what?"

"What?" he said, frowning over at Clint. "What d'you mean make my move?"

"Bucko, really?" Clint sighed. "Pietro's pretty gay for you, maybe more than Steve is. And, my big one armed, favourite assassin, I'm pretty sure you're gay for Pietro too."

"I'm telling Natasha I'm your favourite assassin." he replied.

"Do it. She's my favourite Russian one. But that's besides the point, Buck, he's pining after you and I'd rather not deal with a sad little Maximoff."

Bucky sighed, looking over at Clint. He was smiling at him, half sheepish and half exasperated. He wasn't sure how Clint managed to pull that expression off, but he didn't question it. He rubbed at his eyes, not wanting to deal with this. It was almost as bad as public speaking.

"Your choice, Buckaroo," Clint said, nudging Bucky's thigh with his foot. "But you're probably gonna have to speak to him about it sooner or later, because if not, I'm pretty sure Steve will lock you both in your room until you admit you like each other. Or maybe he'll lock you in a closet?" Clint beamed, a kind of evil one as a plan began to form in his mind.

"No." Bucky said, standing up and pointing a finger at Clint. "I am not being forced into a fucking closet."

"If it is a fucking one, I am sure it would be pleasurable, no?"

The familiar Sokovian accent washed over Bucky and he laughed at what Pietro said, jaw jutting out slightly as he tried not to smile.

"Speak of the devil. I'm gonna go and try not to get killed." Clint said, standing up and leaving the two in the room.

"Did you -?"

"Yeah," Pietro answered honestly, which Bucky was glad for. "And how would you feel if we were to -?" he cut his question off, like he was unsure of how to answer it.

"I don't know. I just ... I think so?"

Pietro appeared in front of him and Bucky saw the dewy look Clint had been talking about. It pulled at the heartstrings Bucky had remaining. "As long as you are comfortable with whatever we would be, I do not mind."

"Would you be comfortable with it? You know I'm not the best at a lot of things." he said and was a little surprised that Pietro didn't look at where his left arm used to be.

"I do not care that you were the Winter Soldier, or that you killed people. All that I care about is that you will be happy and that I will be there when you get sad or upset or angry."

Bucky smiled, breathing out a laugh. "Kinda wanna kiss you right now," he said quietly.

"I kinda won't stop you." Pietro replied.

It had been enough for Bucky. It was a soft press of mouths, heart trying to fight its way through his sternum, not that he paid it any mind; all he could think about was Pietro, how soft his mouth was, the roughness of his palms as they came up to rest on Bucky's cheeks. He pulled away from Bucky, face flushed pink under his beard and white hair. He smiled at Bucky who couldn't help but return it, feeling like a part of his life had gone right for once.

Although Bucky still fucking hated public speaking, he guessed somehow (through a butterfly effect, probably), he had managed to fall for some idiotic, self sacrificing speedster. They could stick through the shitty public speaking and dealing with the reporters and cameras together. Besides, they were bound to get a lot now that they were the first Avengers gay couple that would come out to the public. (Thanks, Clint.)

(The second gay couple was going to be Steve and Tony. Bucky was going to make sure of it.)


End file.
